Runaway
by twisted-sheets
Summary: Ch. 237 spoilers. Yondaime/Kushina. Desperate to avoid romantic entanglements with her best friend, Kushina tries to outrun and avoid the Yellow Flash, but ends up living with him for a few weeks. Chaos ensues and much ramen is consumed.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** _**Runaway (or, alternatively, how **_**not **_**to avoid romantic entanglements with friends)**_

**Author:** twistedsheets10

**Pairings:** Namikaze Minato (the Yondaime Hokage) × Uzumaki Kushina

**Ratings:** PG-13 for now

**Disclaimer:** Naruto is not my property; I do have the same birthday as Uzumaki Naruto, though. :)

**Summary:** Spoilers for Naruto 367. 4th Hokage × Kushina. Uzumaki Kushina proves to Namikaze Minato you can run away, even when you don't go anywhere at all, because distance isn't just a matter of the physical.

**Author's note:** I want to give a shoutout to **runawayachu**, whose works simply rocks, and from where the title was partly 'inspired' from. This is partly an attempt to flesh out Kushina's character (as I envision her in my head) as well as Minato. God, I'm obsessed with this pairing.

"_You cannot run away from a weakness; you must some time fight it out or perish; and if that be so, why not now, and where you stand?"_ Robert Louis Stevenson 

**1. The Drinking Party that Never Happened**

At least, in Uzumaki Kushina's obstinate, desperate mind, certain parts _didn't_ happen.

The whole thing started out as a celebration on Nara Shikaku's engagement to Yoshino in one of the well-known restaurants in Konoha. The initial mood was quite merry, except for the brief, tense moment when Minato and Kushina had inadvertently seated themselves beside each other, the hot, smoky air in their booth filled with well-wishes (mostly directed to Yoshino, who was smug and glowing) and rippling laughter (mostly directed at Shikaku, who looked like he was sentenced to death).

After downing several bottles of expensive sake as toasts to the couple's good health, prosperity and marital success, however, things began to rapidly deteriorate. Kushina has always insisted that it all went bad when Yamanaka Inoichi started to sing—several times.

"Why wouldn't he just shut up and die?" Kushina said to no one in particular, hands clapped over her ears as Inoichi began this tenth song for tonight. As soon as he'd seen the restaurant's newly installed karaoke, Inoichi had been _dying_ to try it out—and nearly did, when he choked on a bone he'd swallowed too fast in his rush to finish his food so he could sing. "Or choke on the microphone. That could work just as well. Just. Make. Him. STOP."

"Now, Kushina," Minato said calmly, smiling as he watched Inoichi sing his guts out on the stage, punctuating his song with sweeping arm gestures and clenched fists, hips gyrating wildly. Some of the other patrons of the restaurant, out of embarrassment or annoyance, averted their gaze. The rowdier ones hooted and cheered him on. "No need to get worked up. Inoichi is just enjoying himself."

"Well, I'm not." Kushina winced as Inoichi continued with his warbling in the thin, reedy voice of his. The Yamanaka was oblivious to the outside world and to the auditory torture he caused them, his eyes closed as he crooned and contorted on. "This is all your fault." She glared at Minato. "You know Inoichi turns into a karaoke monster when he gets smashed. You shouldn't have given him the mike in the first place."

Minato shrugged. "He asked nicely for it. You know how he really likes singing."

"Screw that. He's embarrassing." She focused her gaze on the Yamanaka. If looks could kill, Inoichi would be a corpse twice over. "If he doesn't stop after this song, I'm going to kill him. Slowly and exquisitely. With a chopstick."

"I think I'll help you with that," Yoshino muttered, giving Inoichi a dark frown. She then shifted her gaze to Akimichi Chouza, who was busy demolishing pile after pile of food. "Oi, Chouza, would you mind not eating the house out?"

Chouza didn't even pause from his gobbling to reply or even acknowledge her, and continued to shove platefuls of barbeque into his mouth. Disgusted, Yoshino turned to her soon-to-be husband and gave him a 'You-are-so-paying-for-this' look. Shikaku paled, swallowed, then gave an annoyed grunt and glanced away.

"Speaking of houses," Minato said to Shikaku, ignoring the loud sounds of Chouza's steady chewing and gulping, "about what I asked yesterday—"

Slouching in his seat as if to shrink away from his betrothed's obvious displeasure, Shikaku shoved his hands into his jacket's pockets, and then shook his head. "Sorry. Looks like you can't stay over at the house. Some unexpected guests turned up and they're staying over until the wedding."

Minato grimaced, leaned back on his seat, and let out a long, frustrated sigh. "I was afraid of that."

Pausing in the act of taking another sip of sake, Kushina scowled, brows knit together. "Why do you need to stay at Shikaku's? What happened to your house?"

"Gas accident. His neighbor's piping malfunctioned, and it exploded, taking out his and Minato's rooms. Happened about a few days ago," Yoshino explained before Minato could reply. She cocked one eyebrow up. "Hasn't he told you that?" That was strange, Kushina not knowing about it. The two were best of friends, after all.

"No." Minato shrugged, abruptly cold and dismissive. "Must have slipped my mind."

Kushina snorted with derision at his words. Minato gave her a sideways glance, mouth drawn into a taut, grim line. "Besides," he added, quiet and bitter, "we haven't seen and talked to each other for a while."

"Separate missions keep us very, very, _very_ busy, don't they, Minato?" Kushina chimed in, taking on a lilting voice. "This is the first time we'd actually stayed in the same room for a long time. About three weeks and six days now, to be exact." She beamed at him, but the silent challenge in her eyes belied the smile on her face. Minato stared back, eyes narrowing into thin, sharp slits.

_This is not good_. Tension was rising in their little booth, thick and smothering. Yoshino sucked in her breath, almost choking at the taste of impending blood and ashes. She had no idea what the problem between the two best friends was, but she'd be damned if she'd let them fight it out on _her_ party. "Couldn't you just stay at an inn for a while?" she asked Minato, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"No." Cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment, Minato rubbed the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly, all traces of his earlier displeasure vanishing in an instant. "It, ah, slipped my mind to reserve further accommodations, and with the current influx of refugees, all of the inns in the village are full. I tried looking for spare rooms everywhere, but no luck so far."

Kushina's lips twisted into a smirk, the motion sharpening her face with harsh angles under the restaurant's subdued light. "Huh. Serves you right. Well, you could always sleep on the ground, or in the trees. Or in someone else's bed." Her eyes were bright with catty malice as she looked up from her sake cup.

"Hahaha. Thanks."

"You're welcome." She propped her head up over the table with her arm, and tilted her it to one side, puffing away some loose strands of hair that had fallen over her face before sipping her sake. A thoughtful expression crossed her face, softening her features. "Or, if you want, you could stay over in my place."

Strangled gasps came out from Yoshino and Shikaku. Minato frowned. "I mean, I do have a spare room in the house, so I suppose you could stay there—" Kushina broke off and her head swiveled sharply to Inoichi, who had begun another song, this time a haunting ballad about a man's unrequited love for a noblewoman.

"That's it!" Kushina shot up from her seat, and stabbed a finger into the air, pointing at Inoichi. "Put the microphone down, Inoichi, or I swear, I'll shove it so far up into your ass, you'd be farting the lyrics of the song for the rest of your stupid life! Enough is enough!"

When Inoichi didn't stop, all hell broke loose.

"My barbeque!" Chouza wailed as the table tipped over when Kushina propelled herself to Inoichi, spilling the sizzling barbeque meat to the floor. He stared at the wasted food, mouth open in distress.

Kushina, who now had Inoichi immobilized with a headlock, rounded to him and snapped, "Shut up, _fatass_!"

"Don't call him fatass!"

"Who're you calling a fatass? I'm not fat! I'm big-boned. BIG-BONED!"

"Chouza, calm down, I'm sure you just misheard—"

"Baika no Jutsu!"

"What do you think you're doing—ah, _hell_—"

----

"That went well," Minato remarked brightly as they made their way back home from the hospital where Inoichi had to be confined overnight a few hours later. Beside him, Kushina rolled her eyes, while Shikaku grunted absentmindedly, his mind lost to other, more important matters, like how the hell he was going to pay for the food they ate and for the damages 'they' did at the restaurant, and how he was going to placate his very pissed-off betrothed, who had gone home without him.

The first two ones were easy, the last was well-nigh impossible, especially if Yoshino took it into her mind to make it so. Damn it, he was hoping he'd get laid tonight. By the looks of things, the only place he'd get laid would be in a coffin when Yoshino kills him, very slowly, with a chopstick, for this fiasco.

"Remind me never to invite you to dinner again," Shikaku muttered, glaring at Kushina, who had instigated the whole thing. They were lucky the owner and the police force didn't press charges at them for causing such a ruckus. Chouji's jutsu and the fighting that broke out had completely wrecked one side of the restaurant.

"Hey, it wasn't completely _my_ fault," she protested, stopping in her tracks. Minato stopped as well, but remained quiet, knowing better than to get involved at this stage. Kushina shot him a poisonous glance before turning back to Shikaku. "I'm not the one to blame."

He leaned closer to Kushina, folding his arms across his chest. "It is and you are. You're the one who called Chouza a fatass. You were the one who tried to shove the mike up Inoichi's ass."

"He was hurting my ears! What was I supposed to do?"

Ignoring her outburst, Shikaku went on, "I've never seen you behave so stupidly before." His eyes narrowed suspiciously, noting the high points of color on her cheeks. He threw Minato a questioning glance. The Yellow Flash just shrugged and said nothing. "Are you drunk?" Shikaku asked Kushina.

She stuck her tongue out to him. "Who, me? Of course not!" She sprang away from Shikaku and Minato, turning her back to them as she spread out her arms and began to walk on her toes, movements lithe and graceful as she picked her way in straight line. "See? I can still walk straight!"

Shikaku slapped his forehead in frustration. "This is too troublesome for me to deal with today. I'm going home." He glowered at Kushina. "You're going to help me pay that bill on damages, Uzumaki, whether you like it or not."

Kushina glowered right back, and opened her mouth, but then snapped it shut. "Fine," she finally muttered, sullen and unrepentant. She said a few more things after that, probably heaping curse after curse at him, but her voice was too low for him to hear.

Shikaku turned to Minato. "Good luck with the house." The Yellow Flash nodded and smiled, and then slid a sideways glance at Kushina. Shikaku briefly wondered what in the world was wrong between the two—they'd been nasty to each other the whole night—and then decided that he really, _really_ didn't want to know. With a brief wave, he headed towards his house, not once looking back at the two.

----

As soon as Shikaku was out of sight, Kushina took off, walking rapidly towards her house, not bothering to see or care if Minato followed or not. _Oh, no, you're not getting away this time_. It only took him a few strides to catch up with her. "Were you serious about me staying with at your house?"

Not breaking her quick, maddening pace, Kushina glanced at him, looking annoyed—at him or at Shikaku, he couldn't tell. Truth be told, he could scarcely discern her moods nowadays—or if she was inebriated or not when she made that offer. "Of course I was," came her airy reply. "Why wouldn't I be?"

_Because for the past month you've been doing the best you can to stay away from me_. Whether it was sudden long-term missions or ducking into corners so he wouldn't see her, they've been playing a game of hide-and-seek, and by the looks of things, Kushina was winning. "I thought," he said slowly, staring intently at her, "you were avoiding me."

"Oh, I am." Her smile cut, sharp and cold as a knife's edge. "I'm not going to be in the house for two weeks as I'm going out of town for a mission. So the house is all yours. Just don't go into my rooms or mess with my garden and everything will be _fine_."

"I see." He stopped, and then grabbed her arm, pulling her to him. She spun round, hair flaring out like a war banner. Her eyes flashed with irritation, but she didn't resist or pull away. "So, would you care explaining why you're doing this?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you avoiding me? Are you mad at me? Did I do something _wrong_?"

She burst out laughing, making him want to shake _her_. "I'm not avoiding you because I'm mad at you." In an instant, she was back to her old self, grinning and punching him on the shoulder, mischief dancing in her eyes. "If I were mad at you, I wouldn't be avoiding you. I'd be beating the _shit_ out of you."

"Then _why_?"

She was silent for a moment, lowering her gaze before replying with a shrug, "We're spending too much time together."

Minato stared at her. _Too much time together?_ That was certainly not the answer he expected. His grip on her arm tightened. "What's wrong with that? We're friends."

"Are we?" She gave him a cryptic little smile, and he felt himself go cold and numb all over. She looked like she was about to say more, but instead she sighed, sounding very tired, her shoulders slumping. "Shikaku's right, it's far too late into the night for discussions. I have a mission briefing early next morning, and I want to be somewhat coherent for that. And not late, too. The Sandaime could be an absolute tightass when it comes to tardiness. I'll see you in the afternoon."

"Wait, Kushina—" Instead of fixing things, her answer only left him more unsettled, leaving more questions than resolutions in Minato's mind. They were spending too much time _together_? What the hell brought _that_ on? Was this something she came up on her own, or did someone tell her that? Most of all, he wanted to ask her what she meant by 'are we?'. _What the hell was going on?_

He wanted to keep her from leaving, as she did so many times these past few weeks whenever she spotted him. The whole experience had been painful—not knowing why the hell she averted her gaze from him, why she disappeared as soon as she saw him. He didn't want this to go on further; he didn't know if he could take any more of this.

But she shook her head and disengaged herself from his grasp, and still numb, he didn't—couldn't— stop her. Lips curling into a small smile, she said, not unkindly, "We could talk tomorrow, if you want, just before I leave you the house. You do accept my offer of help, don't you? You're staying over my place while I'm out avoiding you?"

Minato didn't know whether to laugh or to get mad at her. Belatedly, he realized he had to let this go for now—it was quite late, and the alcohol's depressant effects had been steadily working on him. He needed to think this through—pick things apart and figure out a plan; in his less-than-sober state he was not likely to be able to do that. "Yeah," he finally said, nodding.

"Good. See you tomorrow, Minato."

**T.B.C.**

**Author's note, part 2:** I can't believe I really wrote this for NaNoWriMo. gets shot Comments and Crits are most welcome. Reviews are much appreciated. And loved. And huggled, and…so much more. Thank you so much for reading!

It was actually hard writing in Minato's point of view. My Minato!muse wanted me to get right to the kissing. :)

Mwahahaha. I'm sure you can guess what I'm setting up between Minato and Kushina. I finally wrote out some of Kushina's more 'brash' side. Heh. As for Kushina's strange behavior, all will be explained in the next chapters, I promise. And let's just say she lied about one thing in her conversation with Shikaku.

So, yes, you'll see some of the younger versions of the current Naruto 'parents'. Shikaku and Yoshino are Shikamaru's dad and mom, respectively, Chouza is Chouji's Dad, and Inoichi is Ino's. I'm sure I'll get around including Kakashi, Rin (and maybe Obito in flashbacks) in the story, as well as Sandaime, Jiraiya, Tsunade, Orochimaru, Sasuke's parents and Itachi, and even…Madara!


	2. Chapter 2, part 1

**Title:** **_Runaway (or, alternatively, how _not_ to avoid romantic entanglements with friends)_**

**Author:** twistedsheets10

**Pairings:** Namikaze Minato (the Yondaime Hokage) × Uzumaki Kushina

**Ratings:** PG-13 for now

**Disclaimer:** Naruto is not my property; I do have the same birthday as Uzumaki Naruto, though. :)

**Summary:** Spoilers for Naruto 367. 4th Hokage × Kushina. Kushina would have preferred to avoid romantic relationship altogether, but you cannot run away from a weakness; one day you must fight it out or die. Or kill the object of your affection.

**Author's notes:** Thank you so much to those who read, fave'd and reviewed this fic. I'm sorry it took me a while to post the second chapter! And it was so long that I had to halve it. Will post the second half as soon as I can!

**2. The Morning After, part 1 **

_A woman of mystique is fully aware of her flaws and weaknesses, yet she is strong enough to admit them and not be embarrassed by them_. — **Jean Lush**

Well,_ this _was certainly getting to be an annoying pattern these past few days.

The Yellow Flash lay on his poor excuse of a bed, ignoring the lumps and bumps on the mattress and staring at the flaking ceiling, the back of his forearm pressed against his temple. In the end, despite the much-touted soporific effect of alcohol and his own exhaustion, tonight turned out to be another restless evening for Namikaze Minato. Although he had promised himself he would not do it, his mind kept insisting on going back to his conversation with Kushina after the party a few hours before and kept on trying to reason out what or _who _exactly prompted her extraordinary statement of "We're spending too much time together."

It would fill a small book, really, if he were to list down how wrong that statement was in so many levels.

They've _always_ spent considerable time together, eating, training, talking and such, which was normal for friends, or at least, for their friendship. She told him she was not mad at him, he wasn't mad at her (not yet, anyway). He could not recall any serious quarrels they've had in the past two months, which was unusual, now that he thought about it; they usually had big fight once a month—it was like a ritual, a tradition, even.

So why was 'spending time together' a problem _now_? And why was does his stomach turn uneasily and his mouth go dry at the thought of Kushina going out of her way to continue (or, heaven forbid, permanently) avoiding him?

Ah, how Minato longed for the good old days of their friendship. Things were simpler and easier in those days. Finding out what Kushina's problems and solving them were much easier when they were in their teens. A bit of relentless badgering, a challenge to a contest, and maybe a few 'kicked puppy' expressions and a long, sensible talk (and if all else fails, an intense sparring; what Kushina called then 'beating the ever loving shit out of each other') would be enough to draw her out of her depression.

Minato closed his eyes, and his lips twitched into a small smile as he remembered how Kushina was in the past. She had been such a spitfire tomboy back then, the one who punched him in the nose because his reputation as a genius had annoyed her even before they met, as boisterous and hot-tempered as her unruly, flaming red hair suggested (she wore it short back then, just past her ears, cut in ragged edges), rarely backing down from just about anything and ready to mouth off at anyone and anything that pissed her off.

But then, that was before the war.

Nowadays, as outspoken and verbose as Kushina could still be when expounding on her beliefs and in her everyday discourses with people, she was close-mouthed with regard to her private pain and troubles, be they about her past or not, quick to change subjects and to put on a reassuring smile when someone probed too closely, even with friends.

Even now, years later after _that_ war's end, Kushina never spoke directly of what had happened to her during the war, probably never will, even with Minato. Whatever her experiences were, they had changed her, hidden scars the extent of which Minato was only beginning to uncover. In their nearly decade-long friendship, he could count in only one hand the times she chose to confide openly in him.

In those moments, much to his consternation, Minato found that Kushina's demeanor would make a complete 360-degree turn, her whole being taking on the aspects of dignified reticence—slim fingers entwined together over her lap as she leans forward, eyes half-closed, a faraway look in them, mouth quirking every now and then to an ironic, secret little smile—as she spoke of her deepest troubles or her experiences in the war; there was such an air of quiet, enduring sadness about her, much like that in the old, old stories where everyone dies except for the heroine, who is left alone to her loss and grief for all eternity.

In Kushina's case, the stories mimic life far too intimately for comfort. As far as Minato knew, Kushina was a orphan, her whole family killed in the war that ended with her country and their culture all but obliterated from the face of the earth, her own people scattered and sundered apart across foreign, and, oftentimes, hostile, lands.

Perhaps being a refugee was another reason why Kushina was reluctant with sharing her troubles. She had always been proud of her independence and of her country's, which, despite its relatively small size compared with other countries like Fire, was self-sufficient and prosperous, thanks to its bustling port and its merchant fleet. At the end of the war, her people had become refugees, without a home and a leader. It was better than being slaves (which would have been their fate had Water succeeded), but many people from the other countries viewed them as unwanted burdens and were reluctant (even opposed) in allowing them entry and asylum.

Kushina's own arrival in Konoha two years after the end of the war had caused little (if any) opposition, but she had been extremely determined not to be a burden to anyone, and did all she could to be useful and self-sufficient. Maybe a little too much, in Minato's opinion. Only once did she ever seriously _ask_ him for help for anything—and that was after a month of less-than-successful attempts of handling the problem by herself.

_Crap. I'm overanalyzing this_. For all he knew Kushina was just having one hell of a month-long PMS mood swing and this would all over with nary a word said about it again later today.

With an exasperated sigh at his deviating, convoluted thoughts, Minato closed his eyes, turned over and buried his face against the inn's lumpy pillow, still as confused and frustrated as he was hours (no, _days_) before. He and Kushina _really_ needed to have some straight talking done later, when they meet up before she left for her mission.

(And no, he told himself very firmly, he will not think about her offering him to stay at her house and him agreeing. If he tried to analyze that along with their current situation, he would surely burst a vein or several ones).

Kushina was _not_ leaving Konohagakure without him finding out what was troubling her—if he had to forcibly detain her to get his answers, he would. He was a desperate man—he had been getting little if any sleep these past two days. If this went on for another day, he would surely go insane. Tomorrow, barring the end of the world, nothing would stop him from getting his answers and his sleep. Preferably in that order as well.

--

Hangovers were _not_ Kushina's friend. 

And apparently, as she found out today, so was the whole damned world.

It all began, like with most stories about the aftermath of an evening spent carousing, when she woke up early that morning. She knew something was terribly wrong when a knife-sharp flash of pain sliced across her skull as soon as she tried to open her eyes.

The birds that were happily gathered on the tree outside her window exploded in a heart-stopping beat of wings and scattered into the air as Kushina's first string of expletives for the day came out of her lips.

_How stupid_, she thought to herself as she pressed a pillow she'd somehow managed to grab against her head, as if to smother out the intense, blinding ache that had spread like wildfire across her head. She bit her lip to keep herself from crying out as the pain came and went with the rhythm of someone repeatedly stabbing her head with a dull kunai. _Ugh. I have a meeting for a mission today, and I'm going to show up hung-over and looking absolutely wasted_._ Stupid. _

Her usual limit was five sake cups; she'd gotten drunk before—twice, if she remembered correctly, back when she did not know any better—and didn't like the repercussions. The first one was when she received her commission as a chuunin (drinks courtesy of her uncle and her sensei), the other when she was finally made a full teacher at the Academy (reluctantly shared and provided by Tsunade). Both times she ended with her waking up in the morning with gloriously incapacitating headaches that lasted for an hour before it became 'somewhat' tolerable and allowed her some form of movement or coherent thought.

_When will you ever learn, Kushina, that alcohol is very, _very_ bad for you? Why do you insist on torturing yourself like this?_

She could have stopped drinking. It was not like she wanted to get drunk or she was _that_ exceedingly fond of sake (though she and Tsunade were somewhat _very_ distantly related, she did _not_ posses the older woman's preference and capacity for alcoholic beverages).

Problem was, she could never really tell when she was getting too drunk, and neither could her friends—except perhaps Minato—as she acted quite normally even when inebriated. She could even walk straight and make coherent, intelligent responses—decisions, not quite as well as she could if she was sober, but by then, everyone else in her company was too drunk to care themselves if she was making sense or not. She could only hope she did not act like a complete _ass_ last night, especially as Minato was there and she had been avoiding him, and—

_Oh, fuck, NO!_ she swore to herself as the memories of what happened last night at the party came rushing back to her. She bolted upright, flinging pillows and blankets aside in one giant sweep of her arm. She would have propelled herself out of the bed had not another stab of pain hit her in the head right between her eyes. She collapsed flat on her back on the bed again, cursing at her ineptitude, but then she quickly bit her lip and winced at the fresh wave of pain her expletives brought on.

Now she was curled into a fetal position, drawn-up knees almost touching her chest, her head cradled in her hands. A cold, empty feeling settled in her stomach, making her want to throw up. She could almost taste the rising bile at the back of her throat. _What the _hell_ was I thinking? Was I even _thinking_? Damn it all, how could I be so stupid?_

_I will never touch anything remotely alcoholic again_, she thought to herself, reciting the vow all people say when they begin their day with nasty, merciless hangovers and a bad taste in their mouths. _Dear gods, if you have any sort of kindness within you, please, let this be a dream. A nightmare. A joke. When I open my eyes again let this be gone. Please. _

It took her almost an hour and a half before she could get her headache under control and manage to look decent enough to go outside without looking like a complete wreck. As soon as she was finished, she all but flew out of her house, completely forgetting she could have simply teleported herself to her desired location. 

TBC

**Author's notes, part 2:** If you're wondering about the timeline, the events here take place 2-3 years before the Kyuubi attacks Konoha.

…isn't there a belief that if you haven't had sleep for 72 hours, you could be declared legally insane?

Comments? Questions? Characterization problems? Please feel free to drop me a line. They are most welcome. Flames, however, will be used to keep me warm.


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